I'm back
by writerbydefault
Summary: A mysterious thief breaks into 221B with a simple message for the world's only consulting detective and his blogger. "I'm back." Set post-Reichenbach/Sherlock's return. No Johnlock, sorry. NOW COMPLETE
1. Prologue

**_I do not own _****Sherlock****_ or anything in relation to it. I just get bored at my job and have lots of free time to scribble down little plots that run around my brain. :) Enjoy!_**

**Prologue**

The moment Lia Brooks slipped into her safehouse she knew something was off. First, she knew she didn't leave that newspaper on her table. Second, the reassuring blinking of her security system was mysteriously disabled.

As she slowly inched up to the mystery paper, she noticed that it was the_ London Examiner,_ dated yesterday. The front page headline read:

_"Sherlock Holmes: fake suicide, real genius detective"_

Considering the fact that she was currently residing in New York City, Lia wondered why the _London Examiner_ was sitting on her table.

It was then that she heard a voice come from behind her: "Welcome home, Miss Brooks. Did you miss me?

She didn't have to turn to know who it was. Her whole body tensed; she knew that not just anyone could break into her state-of-the-art, personally designed security system. It was him. Terrified, but putting on a stoic mask, she turned and faced her intruder.

"Jim Moriarty. Aren't you supposed to be dead?" she said with an air of contempt.

"Now Lia, you should know better than to believe everything you hear."

"Why are you here, Jim? What do you want?" she replied, trying to hide her fear behind as much malice as she could muster.

"Tut, tut…Lia, I wouldn't use that tone with me. I'm the only reason you're not rotting in some jail cell in Turkey. Or was it Pakistan? Iran? Oh well, it doesn't matter. You're wanted in several countries, many of which have less than satisfactory penal systems. You're my favorite little thief, Lia. You're a triple threat: grifter, hacker, and thief! But don't forget that I'm the one who's keeping you out of prison. I know I'm barely back from the dead, but don't think for a minute I won't destroy you."

Lia stared wide-eyed during his little speech. She opened her mouth to counter, but was smart enough to know when she'd been beaten. Taking in a deep breath, Lia accepted her plight.

"What do you need, then?"

"I need you to deliver a message for me to a very special someone," the consulting criminal replied with a grin, "How soon can you leave for London?"


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Still don't own ****_Sherlock_****. I do have about 9 or 10 chapters already written out, so I'll be uploading them as soon as I get them typed up and edited. I'll get the rest up as soon as it's written out, so you can probably expect a chapter or so a week after the first 10. R&R if you want, or don't, I'm writing this for myself so you can do whatever you want. :P **

**Enjoy! :)**

**Chapter 1**

Sherlock stomped up the stairs of 221B after a particularly long day with John hot on his heels.

"Sherlock! You simply cannot call a woman a 'moronic cow that should be institutionally sterilized to save the world from her stupidity'!"

"I didn't say that to a woman, John. I said that to Kitty Riley, the reporter who idiotically believed that Moriarty was Richard Brook at the beginning of this and is still trying to defend her story even though it's obviously not true. It's not my fault that she _is_ a moronic cow and I do not regret anything I said."

"Well, you never regret anything, but she does have a point. You may have dismantled Moriarty's criminal network while you were away and gotten testimony as to his true existence, but you still have no rock solid evidence to refute the claims of you being a fraud." John paused to slip past Sherlock to unlock the door to their flat. "Almost everyone believes you, Sherlock, but there will always be dissenters until you have that proof. And probably still even after."

Sherlock simply huffed in response before nearly walking straight into his flat mate.

"John, go inside already! I need my violin."

"Sherlock, there's a woman in here."

"You can't just stop in the doorway and make statements like that. Let me in!"

"Do you two always bicker like this?" interjected a decidedly female voice from within 221B.

Sherlock finally pushed his way past John to see the form of a young woman sitting in _his_ chair, hiding behind a newspaper with _his _face on it.

"I hate to say it" the voice continued from behind the paper, "but John has a point here, Sherlock." At this point, the mystery woman put down her paper to continue her thought. "Though I have looked into this Kitty character and I think you're spot on with your assessment of her. She really is an old cow, desperate for her big story. Might do her some good to do some actual investigating instead of just making stuff up based on the story of one man and a few faked documents and videos, but she does have a point. People are simple, Sherlock. You know this. They see something easy and want to believe that. You're going to have to work much harder to get them to believe in you again."

Their intruder was a slight young woman in her early twenties with long, wavy brown hair and kohl-rimmed green eyes that could charm even the hardest of men. She was wearing a form-fitting black leather jacket and black skinny jeans that led into some well-worn boots tied snuggly to the tops. She simply smirked as Sherlock eyed her without saying a word. John, on the other hand, looked back and forth between the two before finally breaking the silence,

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Oh! Right! I'm so sorry!" the young woman replied, quickly turning the smile at the doctor. "Since he's (gesturing to Sherlock) just staring at me like a creep…" she trailed off and quickly stood from her seat and brushed past the detective to make her way to John. As she came nearer, however, she seemed to trip over a small crease in the rug and fell straight forward into the Doctor's arms.

"Oh!" exclaimed both parties.

The girl quickly righted herself, but kept her hands on the biceps of the doctor, who was still holding her around the waist.

"I'm so sorry! That was rather clumsy of me! You've been working out since Sherlock has been back, haven't you, John!" She said, gently squeezing his biceps. "You really shouldn't hide these new muscles under those bulky jumpers, even if you are still a bit sore. I'm sure you look great underneath." She added with a sly wink.

"Oh! Well, no harm done here, don't worry about it." He quickly said, awkwardly releasing her waist. Confused, he continued, "Yes, I have started lifting a bit again, I guess. How did you know?"

"Your sweater looks a little snug around the chest and arms, suggesting you've added muscle recently, and you winced a bit when you caught me, which I know wasn't because of my size." She replied with a knowing smile.

"Oh. Right. Bit like Sherlock, there." John said with a small chuckle. "I'm sorry, but now I'm really curious who you are. And how did you get in here anyways? I thought Mrs. Hudson was out today."

"Oh yea! My name is Lia Brooks, I'm here because…"

"She's a thief." interrupted the consulting detective.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Don't own ****_Sherlock_**** blah blah blah...Sorry my chapters are so short, that's just the way the cookie crumbles, I guess... **

**Enjoy! :)**

**Chapter 2**

Lia just smiled at the detective's interjection and rolled her head slightly in his direction.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes, I was getting to that."

She turned her head back to face John, "Yes, I am a thief. No, I'm not here to steal from you. I did break in, though, sorry. In my defense, I didn't even scratch your lock when I picked it."

"Sherlock?" said John, utterly confused by the whole situation, "I don't understand. She's a thief?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and huffed in annoyance.

"Well, obviously. She's an American, judging by her accent, but she's clearly travelled around the world doing her 'work' since she has no sense of jet lag. Also, she couldn't have been let in since Mrs. Hudson is currently in Cardiff visiting an old friend and won't be back for another week, so she had to have broken in. Her form fitting clothing suggests she does something that requires inconspicuousness and a high level of mobility, while her shoes suggest she does a lot of running and has to be light on her feet. Combine that with her musculature and peculiarly calloused hands, it's clear that she spends her time either doing martial arts, rock climbing, _and_ yoga, maybe she does do all three, but I'm guessing by the fact that she's wearing the Izziles diamond around her neck, which had gone missing about two months ago and hasn't resurfaced due to the fact that the investigation into the previous owner has turned up a child pornography ring, it's clear that she probably spends her time in ventilation shafts, scaling buildings, and running from security guards. Combine all of that data with the fact that she just unsuccessfully attempted to pick my pocket and successfully picked yours; it's obvious that she's a thief."

"Now Miss Brooks," he continued, turning to the girl in question, "If you would kindly return my colleague's wallet and state your business here, I might reconsider phoning the Yard."

Lia smirked as Sherlock described her to a tee.

"Very impressive, Mr. Holmes; you are as good as they say! I don't even think you breathed during that description!" She teased. "Sorry, John," she continued, turning back to the doctor to hand him back his wallet, "Old habits die hard. Now I promise I haven't stolen any of your things." she said, holding her hands up defensively. "You can even search me if you'd like" she added, tongue between her teeth.

"Um, thanks? I mean, no thanks, I, I believe you" replied John awkwardly.

"Miss Brooks, your business here?" asked Sherlock, impatient as ever.

"Yes, but I insist you call me Lia. Miss Brooks sounds like an ugly old substitute teacher."

"Fine, Lia. What are you doing here?"

"I was sent here to deliver a message by my…employer." She said simply, grimacing at the word 'employer.'

"Why do you say 'employer' like that?" asked John, "I didn't even know thieves had employers."

"Well," Lia answered, "First, I'm not just a thief, that's way too simple and boring. I'm the whole package: I'm also a grifter, or con artist, though I think that term has certain connotations with it, and know my way around a computer well enough to hack my way into several classified systems. Also, if you got to know anything about me, you would know that I do prefer to work alone. I love to steal things, but I also hate taking hard-earned things from good people, so I generally target the rich who are up to no good. It's much more satisfying to get something sparkly when it comes with the takedown of a powerful and corrupt person, like the Izziles diamond case." She stated, thumbing the jewel around her neck, "Unfortunately I had gotten myself into some trouble in the Middle East recently and had to resort to some unwanted help to get myself out of it. Now I'm forever in this person's debt unless I want to rot in prison or be hanged. Generally I would never run errands for anybody, but when the man that even the most hardened of criminals is afraid of breaks into your specially designed and personally secured safe house to ask you a favor, you simply cannot say no."

Though she hid it well, Sherlock couldn't miss the far in her voice as she described her employer. A familiar knot tied in his stomach as he anticipated what her message would be.

"I was sent with a message: two words guaranteed to terrify you to the very core." Her eyes bored into Sherlock's as she spoke.

"I'm back."


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: I don't own ****_Sherlock_**** or anything of that nature.**

**Enjoy! :)**

**Chapter 3**

"I'm back…" repeated John. It didn't need explaining. "Moriarty is back? How is that possible?"

"I have no idea," replied Lia. "My entire contact system on my side of the law truly thought he was dead. We all hoped he was dead. He is brilliant, but he is also terrifying. He struck fear into those much more heartless than me. I almost died myself when he showed up at my place. I highly suggest you be careful. I don't know what he's planning, but it will be bigger than anything you can imagine." She paused, "Is he going to be ok? He's not having a stroke or anything, is he?" She asked, motioning to the completely still detective, who appeared to be sleeping upright with his hands clasped before his face.

"Oh, yea, he's fine." replied John with a wave of his hand. "He's probably just in his mind palace trying to figure out how Moriarty survived. I was sure Sherlock eliminated his entire circle before he came back as well. It seems Moriarty is better than we could have ever guessed."

"He really is, John. Please be careful. I mean it. You seem like a really great man. You both do. I'm sorry I have to be the bearer of bad news." She said, gently reaching out and squeezing John's hand before heading toward the door. "I'll go now."

"Sherlock," she said, pausing at the door, making sure the detective acknowledged her, "It's too bad I botched your lift. I'd really like to know what kind of secrets you keep in that coat of yours." She smiled wickedly before quickly ducking out the door and out of the flat.

"What does she mean by that?" John asked.

Sherlock stared at the now closed door with narrow eyes. His eyes darted to his discarded coat before replying, "I'm sure I have no idea."  
With that he stood, grabbed his coat, and swooped out of the room, shutting himself in his bedroom.

He immediately searched the pockets of his jacket to see if anything was missing, but instead found a small slip of paper that hadn't been there before.

'Of course! The reverse pick pocket!' he thought to himself.

As he opened the paper, however, there seemed to be nothing written on it. The detective thoroughly inspected the note, turning it around in his hands, holding it up to the light, and even sniffed it lightly, 'Aha! Invisible ink!' he thought again.

"Clever girl!" he mumbled absently.

Unfortunately, John had taken away his black light after he decided to perform an experiment on his flatmate's bedroom, so he would have to go elsewhere to read the note.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooo

While Sherlock was upstairs discovering his secret note, Lia was stepping outside and pressing the speed dial on her throwaway phone.

"It's me. It's done. The place is bugged to the roof and I tagged the doctor's wallet. What you could possibly want with him I have no idea, but you've got eyes on him."

"Good girl, Lia. You always do such good work." replied the voice of the consulting criminal.

Lia sighed slightly before tentatively continuing, "Look Jim, I don't know why you don't just leave John out of this. He's a nice guy and…"

"Now Lia," Moriarty interrupted, his quiet and calm voice a hundred times more frightening than if he was shouting, "I don't ever want to hear you talk back to me ever again. You know what I'm capable of. Cross me, and you'll wish you were in an Iranian prison. Do you understand me?"

"Y-yes." Lia stammered, barely able to get anything out.

"Good. We'll meet at 2pm to discuss your read of our little detective. Don't be late, love!"

With that the call disconnected, and Lia was left with a sick taste in her mouth and a new found determination.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Sherlock swooped into St. Bart's in his usual wordless manner.

"Oh! Sherlock! I didn't know you were coming in today!" squeaked pathologist Dr. Molly Hooper. "Do you have a case?"

"Sort of." replied the detective offhandedly as he was riffling through Molly's things. "Black light. I need a black light. Where have you put it?"

"It wouldn't be in with those things. It's over in that cabinet." Molly replied, pointing across the room.

"Ah." replied Sherlock as he hurried over to claim his prize.

"What do you need a black light for?" questioned his pathologist.

"Secret note. A thief came to my flat today."

Noting the slight gasp that came from his mousy pathologist that he admittedly had grown rather fond of, Sherlock added, "She didn't steal anything, Molly. On the contrary, she reversed me. Slipped a secret note in my pocket. Invisible ink. Need a black light to read it."

"A thief broke into your flat to stick a secret note in your pocket?"

"Well, no. She came to tell me he's back."

Sherlock paused to look at Molly. As much as he hated to admit it, Sherlock really had grown rather attached to his pathologist. After she helped him survive his fall, he knew she mattered as much to him as John or Mrs. Hudson. Now that Moriarty was back, he was sure to know that as well. He couldn't bear Molly in danger; he had to tell her.

"Molly, Moriarty is back."

He could see the tears forming in her eyes as she processed the terrifying news.

"Don't cry, Molly. It's unbecoming of you." He quickly said, trying to harsh out her emotions. "Don't worry. This time we'll get him for sure. But I need you to leave. I can't have you in danger. Moriarty will know our connection now. I'll arrange for you to go away for a while. Anywhere you like."

"Sherlock, I don't think that's necessary." Molly replied meekly.

"Please, Molly. I can't focus on taking down Moriarty again if I'm worried about your safety as well. I'll do the same for Mrs. Hudson. John and Lestrade can handle themselves, but I need you safe. You do count, Molly. Besides, I can't bear to break in a new pathologist. It'd be more than tedious." He added with a small smile.

"Well, I guess if it's for the best," Molly replied, giving in to Sherlock's persuasion.

"Thank you, Molly. Now if you'll get that black light."

"Oh! Of course."

Molly scurried back and soon she and Sherlock were looking down at a simple message. It contained an obscure address followed by

_ "You're being watched. Don't bring John. Don't be you."_


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Excellent!" exclaimed Sherlock.

"What's excellent? Couldn't this be a trap?" replied Molly, not bothering to hide her worry.

"Maybe, but not likely," started Sherlock, preparing for a long deduction, "This girl was in our flat for presumably a decent amount of time, likely bugging the place for Moriarty. She had the skills to get in and slip me the note undetected, and she mentioned her technological abilities and the fact that her safe house had top of the line, personally installed security, so I have no doubt she could install almost undetectable feeds in Baker Street. She's also a thief, so she's a natural snoop. She'd realize that I don't have a black light and I'd have to go somewhere else to read this note. And she fancies herself a good guy in all this. She decidedly targets those she considers 'bad guys' and steals from them. She outwardly hates Moriarty, so it would make sense that she would want to help me take him down."

"Oh…so you're going to meet her then?"

"Yes. Right after I drop you off. You can be ready to leave by the morning, right?"

"Um, sure? Do I have a choice?"

"No. I'll be at your flat at 8am." Sherlock uncharacteristically paused for a moment before adding, "Thank you, Molly." With that, he swept out the door.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooo

'I sure hope Sherlock found my note,' Lia thought as she waited at the private café to meet with Moriarty.

"You really shouldn't scrunch your face like that, love." Moriarty stated, pulling Lia from her thoughts. "You very well can't charm those marks of yours if your pretty face is stuck like that."

"Whatever." Lia replied, not caring that she sounded like a 14 year old girl with an attitude problem.

"Snarky as always. Adorable. Now, tell me what you discovered about our little Holmes-y." Moriarty said with a wicked smile as he seated himself across from the thief.

"Honestly, I don't even know what I was looking for. You've been to their flat. You've met the guy; you know everything about him." Lia started, trying to sound as if she tried her best to help her 'employer.'

"Ah, yes, but I need a professional grifter's eye. What can I use against him?"

"I don't know. You already know about his attachments to Mrs. Hudson, the DI, and especially John. I suspect that cute little pathologist is in too, but I'm sure they'll be long gone soon now that Sherlock knows you're back. I didn't really find anything of value in his flat either. He hasn't anything of much monetary value. Since the 'people' avenue is probably out, and he doesn't really own anything special, I don't really think there's much more you can try to do to him."

"I could just shoot him in the head, but somehow that just seems too easy." Jim said airily.

"Um…yea…that'd be totally boring, right?" scoffed the thief, trying to hide her fear for the detective before she continued, "I think I either weirded him out or impressed him with my cold-read of John, though. This guy is a blank page, Jim; impossible for me to read, you've got to know that. I'm not sure my expertise is really useful here. I haven't even been able to dig up any useful dirt on him. I suspect his brother had something to do with that, being the British government and all. He's got some arrests; drugs, assault, general douchebaggery, but other than that, he's pretty clean. No clear skeletons in his closet, and I'm the best. Besides, he's not stupid. I'm sure he's figured out I've bugged the place and will be clearing it soon."

"Hmmmmm…well, Miss Brooks, I'm rather disappointed in you." started Moriarty, sipping the tea he ordered while Lia was talking, "As always, you lack the genius of a true criminal mastermind. I have great plans…great plans indeed." With that, Moriarty continued to mutter to himself, seemingly forgetting that Lia was even there. Finally, he looked up.

"You're dismissed, Miss Brooks. But do stay in London, dear. Entertain yourself. I may need you again soon. But stay out of my way. It'd be a pity if I had to get rid of you."

Lia stood and began to walk away, confused and frightened by Moriarty's strange behavior. Even as she looked back, he was still muttering into his tea.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

After convincing Mrs. Hudson to leave Baker Street (and hoping England wouldn't fall), Sherlock scurried up to 221B to debug his flat. First, however, he would have to do a little acting for the cameras as to not raise suspicions on his new ally.

"Where have you been?" asked John as Sherlock breezed through the door.

"Out. I had to do some thinking."

"And?" asked his clueless companion.

"Our flat has been bugged." replied Sherlock casually.

"Wait, what?"

"It's the only explanation. There's no way Moriarty would send a thief with a specialty in security and agility to relay a simple message. Obviously she was doing more here. Let me see your wallet."

John handed over his wallet and Sherlock quickly began taking all his cards, cash, and other odds and ends out and dumping them on the floor.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing?!" exclaimed the doctor, getting a bit annoyed with Sherlock's antics.

"Aha!" exclaimed Sherlock, holding up a small black chip the size of his pinky nail. "You've been bugged, John. That little girl must have snuck this in there before giving your wallet back."

"I..oh…why would I be bugged? Is your wallet bugged as well?"

"No. She didn't get the chance, remember?"

"Yes. Right. So this whole flat is bugged then? Any chance of getting it all removed?"

"We can try, but it's going to be difficult. We're going to have to call in an expert."

"Mycroft?"

"Mycroft."


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: I just want to say thanks for people actually reading my story, and for the lovely review and follow! I'm starting to get a little stuck on where to take this, actually, so if anyone has any constructive criticism or anything, I would love to hear it. I'm afraid it's rather slow and dry so far and that is definitely not my intention…anywho:**

**Enjoy! J**

**Chapter 7**

Mycroft was more surprised than Sherlock and John that Moriarty was back, but he quickly agreed to debug Baker Street and help Molly and Mrs. Hudson go into comfortable hiding.

Sherlock, John, and a surveillance specialist worked all night to clear their flat and soon it was time for Sherlock to go pick up Molly and meet with Lia.

Sherlock quickly donned a disguise consisting of a dark gray hoodie, a baseball cap, jeans, and converse, and slipped past John. Though John was no longer bugged, Sherlock wanted to meet with the thief alone to avoid distraction. Also, quite frankly, this girl intrigued him. She was obviously a clever girl, maybe even as smart as The Woman, but didn't feel the need to show it off like Miss Adler did. He wanted to investigate her further to see just how clever she really was. And if that led to taking down Moriarty for good, that was an added bonus.

Saying a quick goodbye to Molly and arriving at the intended address, Sherlock found himself at a small coffee shop he had never frequented before. He was early, so he seated himself facing the front window to scope out when the girl arrived.

The time of their clandestine meeting rolled around, and after 5 minutes Sherlock was beginning to get annoyed. After 6 minutes and 47 seconds, Sherlock huffed aloud and leaned back in his seat. Maybe she wasn't coming after all. Dull.

"I never pictured you for a man with a hoodie." Sherlock turned at the sound of a familiar voice, but an unfamiliar face. As he turned, he saw a woman with large black glasses, short black hair, and an outfit that looks like she had just come from the national hipster convention; a fellow master of disguise, it would seem. It was only her eyes that gave her away; that light green that glimmered with mystery that made you think she was making fun of you but you still couldn't look away.

"You're late." Sherlock stated, outwardly annoyed.

"I was here on time. I just wanted to see how long it took for you to get annoyed. It didn't take that long. Sorry, couldn't resist." She said with a small giggle, handing Sherlock a mug of coffee as she sat across from him at the small table "Here. Black, two sugars, just like you like it."

Sherlock slowly grabbed the cup and just stared at the girl incredulously. "How…"

"Please, you think I didn't do my research before coming here? Childs play." Lia explained with a signature smirk.

"Interesting. Very good." Sherlock replied, smirking right back. He was officially impressed. "Now, do we have business to discuss or no?" he continued, clasping his hands before him.

"Right." Lia replied, mirroring his stance and leaning in. "I'm glad you got my note. Thanks for coming. I assume you've realized I'm here because I want to help you take Moriarty down. Why can you trust me? Well, you can't, but I'm asking you to anyways. I don't appreciate being bossed around or blackmailed. Besides, he's super creepy and I think he's legitimately going crazy."

"I do trust you, for now. Please expand. What's your plan here?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm not sure yet. I have a tentative plan, but it all depends on how big his entourage is right now. How certain are you about taking out his little web of crime?"

Leaning back, Sherlock let out a breath, "I had thought I'd taken out his entire system, saving some as witnesses to his true existence. If there was anyone else who knew, I would have found out he was alive. No one I encountered knew. That I know for sure."

"Everyone I know thought he was dead, as well. Then how did he survive? He couldn't have done it alone, right? Who's helping him? Is there a whole group? With Moriarty, it's almost impossible to tell; that's the reason I agreed to do his bidding up until now. No one knows what he's capable of. He's back with a vengeance, Sherlock, but how much power does he have? He was pissed when he found out you were alive, Sherlock. He's gone mad! If we can't stop him, there's no telling what kind of havoc he'll wreak!" Lia's voice was stricken by panic and her arms began flailing with her words.

Sensing that they were attracting attention, Sherlock stood from his seat and kneeled in front of the frantic thief, gasping her wrists in an attempt to stop her movements. "Lia" he started, his low baritone pulling her from her panic, "You need to calm yourself. We will figure this out. I need to think." Lia continued to squirm and avoided his eye. "Lia. Look at me." The thief forced herself to look into his eyes, catching just the slightest hint of concern. She immediately calmed under his touch and took in a deep breath. Sherlock lingered on her wrists for a moment longer before wordlessly breaking their eye contact, releasing her and going back to his own chair.

"Now, tell me why you think Moriarty is going mad." Sherlock said quickly, and, as Lia noted, almost awkwardly, having just broken his general rule against human contact, especially in the form of comfort.

"Well, when I met with him yesterday he seemed…off; more off than the normal psychotic that he usually is. He doesn't make any sense. It's like he has no clear plan. There are no puzzles, no clues; no hint of the elegant design he's so proud of. Also, he started talking to himself. Not like 'I've got an earpiece in' kind of talking, but the crazy mumblings of a man off his rocker." She finished, raising her eyebrows and waving her hand by her temple for effect. "In my line of work, I've had the opportunity to see all kinds of people; observe them up close. Reading people is my specialty. I've seen the sane, the insane, the pompous, frightened, meek, and mild; everything you can think of. With Moriarty, I honestly think he's gone mad. I don't think he has as many people on his side as he wants us to think. I think he's grasping at straws, Sherlock. This could be our only chance to destroy him for good before he rebuilds himself."

Somewhere during her rant Sherlock had closed his eyes to think. Lia was right, there was no way Moriarty could have survived alone. This impending madness implied that he couldn't be working with more than a few people, and even that was uncertain. He was certain he had tied up all the loose ends. Unless…

His eyes snapped open.

"Excellent!" the detective exclaimed before all but running out of the café.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

It took the startled thief a few moments to take in what happened before she grabbed her scarf and dashed after the detective. She had to nearly jog to keep up with his long, excited strides.

"Excellent? What could possibly be 'excellent' about this situation? What the hell are you talking about? And where are you going? You do realize it's utterly rude to just jump up and leave someone at a table!" Lia nearly shouted at the detective out of frustration.

"Oh, good, you knew to follow" Sherlock said easily. "I figured it out, Lia. I'll fill you in once we get back to Baker Street. John needs to know as well."

It took roughly 10 minutes of sprint-walking before Sherlock was excitedly running up the stairs to 221B with Lia right behind.

"John!" Sherlock bellowed into the seemingly empty flat, "John! John, get out here now!"

"What! What's wrong!" exclaimed the poor doctor, as he stumbled out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, evidently fresh out of the shower.

"I was so right about the workouts!" giggled Lia, alerting John to her presence.

John quickly turned a bright shade of red at the sight of the still disguised Lia staring at his bare chest and arms.

Sherlock turned and glared at the pair before sharply saying, "Go cover yourself, John. I have something important to share concerning Moriarty, and I'd like to do so without further distraction of our guest." He glanced over to Lia, who was staring back at him with a mysterious grin on her face while she removed her black wig to shake out her long brown locks.

John simply nodded to Sherlock and hurried out of the room, but not after mentally noting the intense and unfamiliar look his friend was giving the admittedly attractive young thief.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't oogle my flat mate during a case." Sherlock said pointedly to Lia after John was safely out of the room.

"So I can oogle him after?" Lia replied wickedly.

"Please, Miss Brooks, let's stay on task." Sherlock warned.

"Please, Mr. Holmes, try to hide your jealousy." Lia teased.

"There is absolutely no reason for me to be jealous, Lia," Sherlock stammered a bit, "I…"

"Right! Back! Now, Sherlock, what was so damn important?" John interrupted, bursting back into the room, pulling the last of his arm through his tan sweater.

Snapping back to his emotionless mask, Sherlock started to explain the situation to John, "Ah, John. It turns out that Lia here wants to help us take down Moriarty. She has provided some pivotal information that helped me deduce how Moriarty survived, how powerful he actually is, and how we can take him down for good."

"Great! What happened?" John replied.

"Sebastian Moran." Sherlock answered simply.

"Moran?" interjected Lia. "That's impossible! Moran is dead! He died months before Moriarty!"

"Who's Moran?" asked John, once again left out of the loop.

"Sebastian Moran," answered Sherlock, "was rumored to be Moriarty's right-hand man."

"He was also the man who betrayed Moriarty and got a bullet to the head for it." Lia elaborated.

"That could have been faked." Sherlock responded.

"No, it couldn't." Lia countered.

"How would you know? What, were you there?" Sherlock argued, beginning to pace as he was getting visibly frustrated with her fighting him on this.

"Yes!" Lia exclaimed, simultaneously flinging her arms in the air before settling them on her face to cover her eyes.

Sherlock stopped for a moment and just stared at her, as did John.

"You were there?" asked John, "When Moriarty killed Moran?"

"Yes." Lia responded in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, turning her eyes to the floor and beginning to fiddle with the diamond around her neck.

John quickly turned doctor when he saw Lia's face turn frighteningly pale. He guided her to the sofa and sat beside her, keeping an arm around her shoulders to keep her steady. Sherlock perched himself on the coffee table in front of her and leaned forward.

"Tell me exactly what happened."


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Lia took a deep breath and continued,

"I was brought in as a specialist to help Moriarty figure out how to get to the crown jewels along with several other career criminals, all assigned to different tasks of the three-part break-in. You were right about Moran, he was Moriarty's right hand." She said, barely shifting her eyes from the floor, "One night, the crown jewel team and I were coming back to meet with Moriarty to discuss our recon for the day. When we came up to his office we heard Moran and Moriarty arguing. We couldn't make out what they were arguing about, but the next thing we heard was a gunshot. We rushed in and saw Moriarty with a gun in his hand and Moran on the ground with a hole in his head and a pool of blood forming around him."

Lia barely choked out those last words as she wiped away a single tear that escaped her clear green eyes. John tightened his grip on her shoulders and rubbed soothing circles on her back.

"I may be a criminal, but that doesn't mean I'm completely desensitized to such cold-blooded murder." She said as she looked up at Sherlock as he stared at her, studying her pained face.

Sherlock paused for a moment before reaching out and gingerly grabbing Lia's hand and asking "Could it have been faked?"

"I…no. It was too horrible." She replied, shaking her head fervently.

Sherlock released her hand and scoffed before standing, "Ordinary people." He said to himself, "Just because it affected your emotionally doesn't mean it was real."

"You don't know anything, Sherlock Holmes!" and with that Lia pushed off the sofa and stalked out the door.

"Well, that went well, you arrogant sod!" exclaimed John, exacerbated by Sherlock's unfeeling antics. "Can't you just be nice for once? She is just trying to help!"

Sherlock didn't reply. Instead he just swept into his room to think.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooo

Lia wandered aimlessly around the streets of London for several hours after escaping 221B. Seeing a man shot dead before her eyes was the darkest day of her life. Sure, she may be a criminal, but she never hurt anyone, at least not mortally. She carefully planned her heists to either con her mark into either giving her what she wanted or when there was no one around. She was fully capable of defending herself and had knocked out a few guards in her career, but never, ever would she kill someone like that. It was that moment that had instilled in her a complete terror of Moriarty. Before, she thought he was a genius, but now she saw how crazy he really was, and definitely not the fun kind.

As it started to get cold and dark, Lia started wondering whether or not Sherlock could be right. He had an excellent reputation, but could what she had seen have been faked?

She needed to find out.

Making her way back to Baker Street, she noticed that Sherlock's light was the only thing illuminating the otherwise darkened flat. Deciding to have a little fun and avoid waking John or Mrs. Hudson, Lia began to scale the fire escape to Sherlock's window.


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to post a new chapter, I've been busy with work and sleeping, to be honest. I completely have the story finished, though! I just have to type it up and edit it, then upload it! :D I'm so excited!**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 10**

Creeping silently up to Sherlock's window, Lia saw the detective sitting on his bed with his eyes closed. Based on his posture and the fact that his hands were clasped before his face, Lia quickly assessed that he must be in his little 'mind palace', as John had put it.

She slowly and quietly shimmied open the lock and slipped inside, making absolutely no noise. Mentally congratulating herself on a perfect entrance, she slowly inched toward the still detective.

"You know, if you're going to sneak into someone's room in the middle of the night, you might want to reconsider the distinctive perfume," the detective said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Lia stopped dead in her tracks and smirked, "But you didn't hear me, right?"

The detective's eyes flicked open and looked at her. "No, you really are quite good."

"Thank you" Lia replied triumphantly, before remembering her purpose there. "Look, Sherlock" she continued uncertainly, "I'm sorry for running out earlier. I don't think you'll understand, but Moran getting shot by Moriarty was the most terrible thing that I have ever seen in my life. Now that it might be a lie, I can't decide if I should be relieved or…" she trailed off, honestly unsure how she was feeling. "I need to know the truth, Sherlock. How can I help?" She finally finished, taking a determined step toward the detective, still seated on his bed.

Sherlock quickly swung his feet off the bed to sit on the edge facing the girl.

"You'll need to remember, Lia. Sit." He commanded, gesturing to the space on the mattress beside him.

The girl sat near him and stared at her hands, knowing she was going to have to relive the painful memories she tried so hard to bury.

"Lia, I'm going to need you to concentrate," Sherlock began, turning himself to face the thief. "Look at me" he requested, and Lia turned to face him. "Now the average human memory on visual matters is only 62% accurate," Sherlock said, quoting the familiar statistic, "but since this was a traumatic event we can hope it was burned into your mind in a more permanent fashion."

"Or not…I'd really like to forget it" whispered the thief.

"Shhh." Sherlock shushed her as he laid his hands on Lia's face, looking into her eyes with a surprising intensity. "Close your eyes. Go back to that day."

"Sherlock…" Lia started, the sheer terror returning to her face.

"Don't worry," Sherlock said in an uncharacteristically reassuring voice as he unconsciously stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb, "I'm right here. You're safe. This is necessary."

Lia sighed before closing her eyes and returning herself to that fateful day in Moriarty's office.

"Now, what do you see?" Sherlock asked when he was sure she was in her memory.

"My colleagues and I are walking up to Moriarty's office and we hear shouting."  
"What are they saying?"

"I…I don't know."

"Think!" The detective urged, slightly tightening his grip on her face

"I…um…" Lia delved deeper into her memory, replaying the sounds over and over in her head before trying to continue, "It sounds like Moriarty is shouting 'You crossed me' followed by some mumbling. I think he just said 'this is necessary'. I can't make out anything Moran is saying. I'm sorry."

"No, this is good. Then what happened?"

"We heard the shot and went running in and saw Moran on the floor." Lia's breathing began to hitch as panic set in.

"Lia, stay with me" Sherlock urged, his low baritone attempting to get her hysteria under control, "There had to have been a mistake. Look. Really look."

Lia squeezed her eyes tighter and concentrated on the scene in her memory. Moriarty holding the gun. Moran on the floor. There had to be something! Suddenly, she saw something. Could that be it? No…replay it again. Yes! There it is!

"It's fake!" Lia exclaimed, snapping her eyes open. Her sudden movement slightly startled Sherlock, but he remained still, waiting for further explanation.

"He blinked, Sherlock. Moran blinked! I'm sure of it! Unless corpses can somehow blink their glassy, dead eyes, Moran was definitely not dead. Thank you!" exclaimed Lia, pulling Sherlock into an unabashed kiss on the cheek before flinging her arms around the detective in a celebratory hug. Sherlock froze for a second before awkwardly returning the hug by wrapping his hands around her waist. Lia pulled away, unperturbed by Sherlock's awkwardness, "Isn't this amazing?"

"Not the strongest of evidence, I admit, but yes. Very good." Sherlock replied, clearing his throat as he removed his hands from Lia's thin waist. "Now we have the information we need to continue. Shall we wake John?"

**I agree with Sherlock, not the best of evidence, but alas, I am not Moffat or Gatiss. This will have to do. **


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Shall we wake John?"

"Yes! Yay! Can I do it?" Lia replied excitedly, "Wait, what time is it? Sherlock, it's only 4:30. I highly doubt John will appreciate being woken up this early, even with such great news."

"You may be correct. The last time I woke up him this early he was quite cross with me. He threw the experiment I was doing on fingernails and battery acid right in the trash." Sherlock said with a pout.

"Um, first, ew." Lia responded with a grimace, "Second, let's let him sleep for at least another hour. Oooooo! I'll make breakfast! I know you don't eat on a case, but I'm sure John would appreciate a nice meal to go with an early morning wake-up! I know just what to make!" Lia nearly fell off the bed in her excitement, "I'll just quick run out for some groceries!" Lia slipped on her boots and grabbed her jacket, "Sherlock, can you please make sure there's none of your experiments in my cooking space? If there is, I _will_ throw them away, okay? Cool! Be right back!" Lia ranted on without a breath or waiting for a response. With her last word, she leaned down to drop another excited kiss on Sherlock's cheek before rushing out the door.

Sherlock was left surprised, and raised a hand to his cheek before heading to the kitchen to do what he was asked. He did not doubt this girl's threat to throw out his uncompleted experiments. Yes, that was why he was cleaning up for her. Definitely.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooo

Sherlock was in his mind palace in the living room when Lia returned with her groceries in less than 15 minutes. Soon there was a heavenly scent coming from the kitchen that even beckoned Sherlock from deep within his train of thought. He stood for a moment in the doorway admiring the swift and silent, even graceful way in which the thief moved around the kitchen. She was currently working three frying pans simultaneously, along with tossing a bowl of fresh fruit, all while humming a small tune.

"What are you making?" he finally asked.

"Oh, just some simple breakfast crepes, a mint fruit salad, caramel pecan rolls, and sausage links."  
"Do you make these kinds of meals a lot?" Sherlock asked, curious about the expanding skill set of his…this thief.

Lia paused a moment from rotating her sausages to turn to Sherlock. "A couple of years ago I was running a long con on some snooty aristocrat who was involved in an underground drug smuggling ring. Turns out he had a top personal chef on staff that took a liking to me and ended up teaching me everything he knew about cooking. Can you please toss this in with the fruit?" Lia asked, handing Sherlock a small bowl with a light sauce smelling pleasantly of mint. Sherlock took the bowl from her and simply dumped the sauce on top and started hacking away at the fruit to try to mix it in.

"No, no no! Sherlock! I said toss, not stab into oblivion!" Lia scolded with a giggle. After properly teaching Sherlock how to lightly toss her salad without damaging the fruit, she continued. "Anyways, after learning to cook, I completely fell in love with it. I see it as an art. It's just so relaxing, especially after a long day of thieving," she added with a small serene smile on her face.

Sherlock couldn't help but just watch her as she carefully plated her food as if the correct placement on the platter affected the taste itself. Suddenly, the kitchen timer went off and Lia and Sherlock were both pulled from their thoughts.

"Yay!" Lia squealed as she pulled her freshly baked caramel pecan buns from the oven. "All done! Now, if you'll go brew some tea, I'm going to go wake up John!" With that, Lia skipped out of the kitchen and ran up the stairs to John's room. How she remained silent was an ever-present mystery to the detective.

**A/N: Hopefully I'll get the next few chapters up tomorrow, since these last two were kinda boring. **


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Lia crept into John's room to find the doctor fast sleep on his bed, slightly snoring. Stifling a giggle, Lia whispered, "John."

"John? John, wake up." She tried again. "John, if you don't wake up, I'm going to have to wake you up myself." Lia deliberately spoke as quietly as she could. Waiting a grand total of 3 seconds, a wide grin spread across Lia's face as she raced to John's bed and jumped on the empty space beside him.

"JOHN! GOOD MOOOOOORNING!" Lia sang her wakeup call at the top of her lungs before dissolving into giggles as the doctor flailed awake.

"Ahhhh! What?! What's going on?! Why are you here? Stop jumping on me!"

Lia didn't care a single bit that she was acting like a six year old on Christmas day.

"Sherlock and I have news! Oh! And breakfast! Well, I made breakfast. Sherlock is making tea. At least I told him to."

"What?" John asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Oh. Ok. I'm up, I'm up. Now stop jumping on the bed so I can get up."

Lia, satisfied with her wakeup, bounced one last time, enough to propel her off the bed, and ran back down the stairs. "You better hurry before your breakfast gets cold!" she yelled, halfway down the stairs.

John just groaned as he looked at the clock. "5:34am. This better be good." With that, he grabbed his dressing gown and tied it tightly around himself before trudging down the stairs.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooo

After taking the first few bites of his extra early breakfast and complimenting the chef, John finally asked the million dollar question, "So what's the news?"

Lia jumped in before Sherlock could even open his mouth. "Moran's death was a fake! Sherlock helped me remember that night and I noticed their mistake. We know who Moriarty is working with now, so we can work on a plan!"

"And" Sherlock picked up, "I highly doubt Moriarty has anyone except Moran. I was very thorough in my work while I was 'dead'."

"Excellent!" John replied as he took a sip of his tea. "So what's our next move?"

John had barely finished speaking when Lia's phone chimed. Pulling a thin smartphone from her pocket, she quickly read a text that made her face turn sour.

"It's Moriarty. He wants to meet with me in an hour. He says he has some ideas for me, whatever that means. Probably has my next assignment. I'll try to figure out what we can use to take him down." She said as she shoved the last piece of fruit in her mouth to pull her arms through her jacket.

"Lia, I don't think you should go," Sherlock warned.

"Sherlock, it'll be fine. I can take care of myself, remember? I'll come back here when I'm done, ok?" Seeing Sherlock was less than convinced, Lia continued, "Fine. I'll jot down the address where I'm meeting him, and if I'm not back in an hour you can start to worry."

"Fine." Sherlock scoffed. After a moment, he added, "Be careful.

With a small grin and a nod, Lia was out the door.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Lia quickly popped back to her hotel to shower and change before heading off to meet Moriarty. Not being a complete idiot, Lia slipped her smallest Taser into the pocket opposite her phone before hailing a cab and setting off.

The cab pulled up to a quiet little restaurant and Lia found Moriarty already seated and waiting for her.

"I ordered you some coffee, love. I know how much you Americans love your coffee."

"Um…thanks." Lia replied as she took the seat across from the madman. She took a long sip of the hot liquid before speaking. Admittedly, she needed the caffeine.

"So what do you need, my liege?" mock saluting the criminal mastermind before her.

Jim smiled wickedly before leaning in and sliding a manila envelope across the table to the girl.

"I'd like you to take a look at these photos and let me know what I should do about this problem."

Lia shrugged and opened the envelope. As she flipped through the photos, however, all she saw was herself. She had been photographed meeting with Sherlock in her disguise, crying in John's arms, sneaking up to Sherlock's bedroom, and even kissing the detective on the cheek.

Frozen with fear, Lia just looked up at Jim.

"So, what do you think?"

Trying to stay calm, Lia said the first thing that popped into her head, "Well, I think you should give me the name of your photographer, because I look GREAT in these photos."

"Oh, I'm sure you've met. He was just a little more…dead…at the time."

With that, Moran walked up behind the girl and put a strong hand on her shoulder. Lia immediately tried to stand, but Moran's large hand forced her back into her seat.

"Ah, ah ah, now don't go making a scene. By the way, are you feeling ok? You're looking a bit pale, my love." Jim said smoothly.

Now that he mentioned it, Lia was beginning to feel a little light-headed.

"You…you drugged my coffee! You pompous ass!" She tried to stand again, but fell back into her seat without the help of Moran's forceful hands.

"Now, dear! You're looking quite ill! Why don't we get you home to bed?" Jim called loudly, to detract attention from the woozy woman in the semi-crowded restaurant.

Jim stood and took Lia by the arm and whispered fiercely in her ear, "I told you not to cross me," And led her outside to an awaiting car.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Lia forced herself to stay conscious as she was led to the back of a black sedan. She considered reaching for her concealed Taser, but since she was too light-headed to actually do anything if she did tase the men, it would likely just make them even angrier. Instead, she snuck her phone from her pocket and typed out the shortest message she could think of before kicking her phone under the seat of the car.

Then the world went black.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooo

Sherlock and John sat anxiously awaiting Lia's return from her meeting with Moriarty. John was pretending to watch the telly, though he was really 'watching' a documentary about the invention of buttons, while Sherlock sat in his chair staring at the wall with his hands before his face.

It had been two and a half hours, and both men were worried. Suddenly, Sherlock's phone chimed. Grabbing it, he quickly read

"SOS PINK" from an unknown number.

"John."  
"What is it?" John asked.

"Lia's in trouble. She texted me a code."

Sherlock passed the phone to John, trying not to let panic set in. Sentiment was a weakness!  
"SOS PINK. I get the SOS part, but what on earth does "pink" mean?" John asked, after reading the message.

Sherlock had closed his eyes to think. Suddenly, they snapped open. "The cabbie case! Lia said she did her research. She's referring to the Study in Pink, as you so ridiculously named it."

"Ok, but what does that even mean?"

"She has a smartphone, John. And she's clever. She's telling us to track her phone to find her."

Sherlock grabbed John's laptop and hacked in. For once John didn't gripe about Sherlock using his password without asking.

"We still need the password to her account, Sherlock."

"Right. Well it has to be something we could guess easily, in case she had to resort to telling us to track her."

"Try 'pink', then." John suggested.

"Wrong."

"221B?"

"Wrong."

"Izziles maybe? She does love that diamond."

"No." Sherlock answered. Thinking for a moment, Sherlock secretly typed something in, but came up wrong again.

"What did you just try? It looked like just a string of numbers?" John asked, curious about the detective's odd secretiveness.

"Her msmnts" Sherlock mumbled

"Her what?"

"Her measurements, John. Like The Woman did with her safe." Sherlock replied, acting as if it was the most obvious guess in the world.

"Sherlock, why do you know her measurements? Have you seen her naked?!" John asked incredulously.

"I notice things, John. No, I haven't seen her in the least bit…indecent. Now let's focus on the task at hand."

"Fine."

Both man thought for several minutes before John spoke.

"What was the pink woman's password?"

"Rachel. Ah! So simple! She's clever, alright. We're in. Loading the map."

Sherlock and John were throwing on their coats and Sherlock was halfway out the door before the search was even complete.

"John…"

"Got it" John replied, already in his room pulling his Browning out of the nightstand.


	16. Chapter 15

**A/N: Beware, this chapter gets a little violent, so if you're sensitive to that kind of thing, please don't read on. If you can deal, please enjoy J**

**Chapter 15**

Lia woke to an agonizing burning on her left forearm.

"Oh good! You're awake!"

Lia pushed through the pain to quickly assess her situation. Head pounding, arms bound to a chair, and a nice, fresh cigarette burn singeing the flesh of her forearm. This was not going to be fun, she thought, but she refused to give Moriarty the satisfaction of breaking her. Maybe she could even wiggle free from these ropes. Amateurs.

"Aw, come on! Can't I sleep for 5 more minutes?"

Lia heard the slap before she felt the pain radiating through the left side of her face and felt the little trickle of blood slide down her cheek.

"Really, dude? A big, old man ring? Did you wear that just to cut my face when you backhanded me, or did you borrow that your former lover, Liberace?"

Lia almost laughed when she felt him hit her again, making the cut on her cheekbone split wider.

"No, but he would have loved this" Jim whispered venomously as he ripped the Izziles diamond, chain and all, from the thief's neck. "You _will_ respect me! I will _skin_ you!" Moriarty threatened the mouthy thief, his face growing red and the vein in his forehead pulsing with anger.

Pushing back the pain, Lia replied, "Yea, yea. You and what army?"

Jim looked at her in disbelief. How dare she talk back to him?!

"I know you're pretty much alone here, Jimmy. It's just you and Muscles McGee." Lia continued, refusing to let fear sink in, deciding instead on insulting her attacker until she couldn't anymore.

Jim just stared at her as he unbuttoned his sleeves and began to roll them up. He cracked his neck before beginning, "So you figured it out. Congratulations. Still, I can easily kill you myself, and there's plenty of time to rebuild my empire. You worked for me easily enough without knowing I had no network. And once I prove through your _creative_ demise that I'm not to be trifled with, I'll be back where was before I died. You too, Seb!" he called out to the large figure making his way across the empty space of the warehouse floor. "How would you like to be alive again, love?" Jim asked Moran.

"Well, it would be nice to do some real crime again, instead of lying low. I've missed it."

Moran spoke in a way that sent shivers down the thief's spine. Lia knew that if there was any time for her to get herself out of there alive, it was now, while the boys were slightly distracted. Suddenly, Lia gasped loudly and stared wide-eyed at something behind her two captors. Having gotten her hands free while Jim was slapping her, Lia took the opportunity of the two men turning to see the approaching nothing to jump from her chair and make a break for the door.

"Oh no you don't!" Shouted Jim as Moran ran right after her. Lia was fast, but she couldn't outrun the long strides of the dead man, especially after being drugged and beaten. Moran grabbed the girl by the arm and flung her to the ground before kicking her square in the ribs. Having the air drug right out of her lungs, Lia tried to roll into a ball to stop the continuing assault of the man's shoe to her ribs. When she raised an arm to protect herself, a nauseating crack finally made the girl cry out in agonizing pain.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooo

Though Sherlock bribed the cabbie to get them to the address in half the time, both men were worried they might be too late.

"I should have let her go." Sherlock said, anxiously drumming his long fingers on his thigh.

"She's just as stubborn as you, Sherlock. She would have gone anyways." John tried to reassure his flatmate. "She probably would have climbed out the window and jumped two stories just to get what she wanted." John continued.

"Idiot."

Just as the men stepped out of the cab, they heard a woman's voice cry out in pain. They broke out into a run, and finding the front door of the abandoned warehouse locked, they snuck around to the back of the building. Sneaking inside, they made their way to the center of the building where they spied Moriarty and Moran standing on either side of a chair holding Lia Brooks, her long hair cascading down the back, her head hung down, and strangely enough, giggling hysterically.

"I don't think she's learned her lesson yet, do you?" Jim asked Moran.  
"Not a chance, dick face." Lia responded defiantly.

With that, Moran ran the knife in his hand down her unbroken arm, leaving a wide wound to drip blood onto the floor below. Lia had to use all her strength to hold back her scream, but was unable to stop herself from writhing in pain.

"Tis just a flesh wound," she whispered, giggling to herself to try to keep her sanity.

"Hmmm…Seb…maybe the girl would show some respect if we try out her own little Taser on her. How does that sound?" Jim picked up the Taser they found on the girl after she tried to run away, highly amused with himself.

Unable to watch the girl being tortured any longer, Sherlock decided to reveal himself.

"Jim," Sherlock began in a mock-disappointed tone "I knew you were a madman, but torturing girls? That's even beneath you."

Jim turned at the sound of his nemesis' voice.

"Ah, Sherlock Holmes! I was wondering if you'd show up. How delightful! You can watch your little thief die a slow, painful death!"

"Hmmm…actually, I'd rather not. John?"

John emerged on cue, walking slowly until he was shoulder to shoulder with Sherlock, pointing his Browning directly at Jim's head. Jim just gave an exaggerated yawn.

"Boring!"

Moran also pulled his own gun, this time pointing it at the thief.

Lia barely lifted her head to acknowledge the gun, but managed to make eye contact with the detective. Sherlock quickly deduced her injuries: laceration to her left cheek and arm, cigarette burn, bloody nose, broken arm, several broken ribs. Sherlock shifted his eyes back to hers. Though she looked weak, her eyes had a sense of determination, and he barely heard her say, "Belgravia."

Understanding her immediately, he slowly turned his had to John, who nodded in recognition, and he nodded back to Lia.

Suddenly, drawing up all her strength, Lia kicked Moran in the knee with both feet, hyperextending it so he fell to the ground in incapacitating pain. She quickly grabbed her discarded Taser, cranked it up to the highest setting, and jabbed it straight into the throat of her attacker. John simultaneously swept in and knocked Moriarty in the throat with his elbow, stood his leg behind the criminal, and flipped him to the ground, kneeling on his chest to keep him down.

By the time Sherlock reached the thief he simply had to check to make sure Moran had been knocked unconscious before kicking his gun out of reach, in case he came to. Once he made sure Moran and Moriarty were both incapacitated, he kneeled before Lia.

"Are you alright?" he asked, gently but urgently, his hands and eyes checking for further injuries.

"I'll live," Lia responded, forcing a smile.

Underneath John, Moriarty began to laugh manically

"No she won't!"


	17. Chapter 16

**A/N: This chapter's a bit violent as well. DISCLAIMER!**

**Chapter 16**

At that moment, Jim pulled a small knife from his breast pocket and plunged it into John's shoulder. John wheeled back in pain and surprise. Jim took his opportunity to grab John's Browning and aimed it toward the detective and the thief. Sherlock looked into his eyes and saw the wildness of a man who had lost everything; the look of sheer insanity. In a split second, a shot ran out, followed by a sharp scream from the thief.

Sherlock turned to look at the girl, expecting the worst, but instead found her holding her broken arm, clutching Moran's discarded gun. Turning back to Moriarty, he found his foe face first on the cement, blood pooling from his chest.

Sherlock quickly assessed the situation.

"John!" he yelled to his companion, asking his condition.

John was already applying pressure to his knife wound.

"I'm ok!"

Sherlock nodded to his friend before returning his gaze to the girl who was still clutching the gun, her face now ghost pale, eyes locked on the body of Moriarty, and her whole body trembling.

"John! She's going into shock!"

He turned back to the girl, "Lia," he said in his flat detective voice, "You are going into shock. You need to remain calm. Let go of the gun." Lia didn't acknowledge Sherlock's voice and was clutching the gun so hard her knuckles were white, refusing to let go. Deciding to try another approach, Sherlock lowered his voice and began again gently,

"Lia…look at me." Sherlock gently placed a hand on the uninjured side of the thief's face to turn her to look at him. When she finally made eye contact he continued, "You're safe now. Moriarty is dead. You need to calm down." He reached slowly down and gently pried the gun from her trembling hands.

By then John had made his way across the room and moved quickly into doctor mode. Sherlock draped his coat around the thief's shoulders as John questioned her on her condition, getting mostly blank stares or indiscernible nods.

"Can you walk?" he finally asked. Being met with glazed eyes, John turned to Sherlock. "You're going to have to carry her out of here, Sherlock. I called Lestrade. An ambulance should be here soon, but she needs to get away from the body, now."

Sherlock nodded in understanding and knelt before the thief once more.

"Lia, I'm going to pick you up now. It might jostle your ribs a bit. I'll try to minimize your discomfort as much as I can."

With a small nod as approval, Sherlock picked up the small thief bridal style, nestling the uninjured side of her to his chest. Though she winced in pain a few times, Lia seemed to relax a bit in Sherlock's arms, nuzzling her face into his warm chest.


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Sherlock insisted on riding in the ambulance with Lia all the way to the hospital and badgered anyone who would listen as she was in surgery to set her arm. John was stitched up and bandaged on site, but went to the hospital to keep Sherlock company. Both he and Sherlock had taken a liking to this girl, even if she was a criminal, and both were anxious to see her out of surgery.

After sitting in silence about an hour, John went to shift in his seat, jostling the 14 stitches it took to sew up his Moriarty inflicted knife wound.

"Damn! I know he was an evil genius and all, but did he really have to stab me in the shoulder I got shot in in Afghanistan? Lousy prick" John tried to joke.

"Well," Sherlock replied coldly, "He's dead now. Say it to his gravestone."

"Yea, and rub it in, likely."

John gingerly held his sore wound and Sherlock began to ask, "Can I see it, John?" while reaching over to shift John's shirt to see the wound.

"Stop it, you wanker!" John nearly yelled, slapping Sherlock's hand away, slightly chuckling.

"I just wanted to see it." Sherlock pouted, mumbling something about scientific inquiry of a knife wound.

John laughed out loud this time.

"Well tough. It hurts. Don't touch it."

Just as Sherlock moved to lean back in his chair, he was beckoned to stand by an ER nurse walking up to the pair.

"Mr. Holmes, your cousin is out of surgery. Got a few metal pieces in her, but she should be just fine."

Sherlock opened his mouth, probably to insult the nurse, but John cut him off

"Can we see her?"

"Of course," the nurse smiled warmly, "I'm sure you'll do no harm, Dr. Watson. Keep an eye on the detective, though. She's just coming to. She needs rest. Follow me."

Soon the pair stood before the bed of the broken thief. She had, indeed, just woken up, but was already being difficult.

"Sherlock! Good! Can I leave now?" Lia asked, visibly relieved when Sherlock and John entered the room.

"Lia, you just underwent surgery to put a rod and pins in your arm…" John began.

"But I'm bored!" Lia interrupted.

Even Sherlock couldn't resist smirking at her exasperated statement. As soon as the attending nurse was gone, she whispered, "Besides, I can't be here long. Career criminal, remember? I'm bound to raise some flags. I don't like jail. Terrible outfits and the food is awful."

"Don't worry about that." Sherlock reassured her, "I admitted you under an alias. As far as these idiots are concerned, you're my cousin Hannah who fell from her horse. Rather violently at that."

Lia made a face.

"A horse? Sherlock, I'm don't even like horses. They scare me."

Sherlock almost laughed.

"Well, I should hope so, considering how badly one just injured you."

Lia childishly stuck her tongue out at the detective as her doctor returned, looking at her chart.

"Hannah! You're awake, good! How are you feeling?" he asked, looking at his patient.

"Great! Better than ever! No pain, whatsoever. I think I'm ready to be discharged now." Lia stated easily with a gorgeous smile.

The doctor just chortled.

"You just got out of surgery, plus you have three cracked ribs. You're going to be under medical supervision for quite a while, dear."

Lia's face fell and a look that bordered on horror sank in. She sat back in her hospital bed, almost ready to admit defeat when John piped up.

"I am a doctor. She could stay at Baker Street. I'll keep an eye on her. It'd probably be better for her to stay with Sherlock and I anyways, him being family and all."

Lia's doctor pondered this a moment before replying, "I suppose that would be alright. I've seen you in action, Dr. Watson. I'm sure she'll be in great hands, as long as she doesn't attempt too much strenuous activity or put pressure on that arm or ribs."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Not a problem, John. I'll go print out the discharge paperwork."

After the doctor left, John turned to Sherlock.

"You're ok with this, right?"

"Yes. It's all settled. She needs to both heal and be out of this hospital. She obviously can't stay alone in her hotel, so 221B is the logical choice. Anywhere is better than a hospital." Sherlock added with a grimace.

Lia just smiled broadly as the doctor returned with the paperwork. Sherlock and John went to the hall to discuss Lia's home care while a female nurse helped Lia into a pair of hospital scrubs, since her normal clothes were either being bagged, were bloodied, or were destroyed when she was brought in.

Despite her strong exterior, the change of clothes and movement from the bed, to the wheelchair, to the awaiting cab completely drained the thief. She struggled to stand from her chair to move to the cab. Stumbling, Sherlock beat John to reach out and gently but firmly grasp her good arm to help her stay steady, his other hand on the small of her back guiding her to her seat. He followed her into the back seat, forcing John to take the front with a roll of his eyes.

John simply grinned when he looked into the back and saw the thief fast asleep on his best mate's shoulder, the detective absently staring out the window, not seeming to mind the contact.


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Sherlock gently shook Lia awake when they arrived and insisted on helping her up the stairs to the flat. Despite her protests about being able to get up the stairs by herself, Lia was secretly grateful for the strong hand holding her good arm by the time she go to the top of the flight, having to lean heavily on the detective to combat her dizziness. Sherlock felt the girl lean further into him and wrapped his arm fully around her waist to prevent her from falling.

"You're doing great, Lia. Almost there." John coached.

"You don't need to coddle her, John. She's injured, not a child." Sherlock snipped to this flatmate.

John ignored Sherlock's comment.

"Lia, why don't you take a rest on the sofa before we get you up to my room? You can sleep up there while you're here."

"Don't be ridiculous, John. Lia can stay in my room. I've already run it by Mrs. Hudson. She agreed to get new sheets and things on the bed, and has already tidied up for her. We all know I don't sleep much and this way Lia won't have to deal with another set of stairs. Plus, if you sleep on the sofa, your back will go out and you won't be able to care for Lia like you promised her doctor."

Admitting Sherlock was right, John sighed, "Fine. Does that sound alright to you, Lia?"

"Um…yea…if you're both ok with it."

Lia paused, both due to dizziness and, for once her life, awkwardness.

"Thank you. Both of you. I'd be dead now if it wasn't for you. And now you're letting me stay here. I…" she stopped, not sure what else to say, "…Thank you."

"Don't be daft, Lia. You're more than welcome here, especially with your help with Moriarty." John quickly reassured the uncertain thief.

Lia seemed to stiffen at the mention of Moriarty's name, and Sherlock could feel her heart start beating faster. He unconsciously tightened his arm around the thief's waist in response. John didn't miss her reaction, either, and quickly gave his doctor's orders.

"Lia, why don't you go and get set in Sherlock's room and get into bed. I'll get you some tea and your pain medication in a second. Sherlock, can you help her please?"

Sherlock helped Lia to his bedroom and she sat gratefully on the edge of his bed. Soon after she sat, she began to fidget, and a strange mix between a grimace and pout crossed her face.

"Why are you making that face?" Sherlock asked, concerned, eyes raking his Lia's small frame.

"What face?" Lia asked.

"You just made a face. Are you in pain? I'll tell John to hurry up with your medication." Sherlock replied, moving toward the door.

"No, no. Well, I am in pain, but it's these scrubs. They're stiff and itchy and weird and they smell like a hospital." Lia replied, rushing through her words while squirming in her seat.

Sherlock looked at her a moment before wordlessly walking over to his dresser and riffled through some drawers. After a few moments he walked back over to his bed and handed Lia a pair of navy blue pajama pants and a light gray t-shirt.

"Here. I'm sure they'll be much too big, but you can draw the string on the trousers. I'll turn my back so you can change."

"Oh." Lia responded, surprised by Sherlock's generosity. "Thank you."

Lia carefully stood to change. She was able to get the pants on one-handed after a few failed attempts, and even adjusted the drawstring so the waistband didn't engulf her small middle. She realized, however, when trying to change her shirt, that she could only lift her right arm a few inches before she was met with a rather distracting pain. This was going to be impossible alone.

"Um…Sherlock?"

"Yes?" Sherlock answered, without turning back around.

"Can you help me? I can't get the shirt myself."

Lia was never self-conscious about showing off her body, but now that it was beaten and bruised, she felt vulnerable in front of Sherlock's discerning eyes. Plus, having to ask for help was not a strong point for her independent spirit.

Sherlock turned around and eyed her, evidently assessing the situation.

"Uhh…" he faltered a bit, but quickly maintained his cool composure, "Yes. Right. Now are we going to do this, then?"

With as little wincing as possible, Lia and Sherlock carefully maneuvered the scrub shirt off Lia's body and Sherlock successfully averted his eyes as to attempt to save Lia's dignity.

As they worked her new nightshirt on, however, Sherlock's eyes were drawn to the deep purple blotches that marred Lia's entire right side. Noting Sherlock staring, Lia ventured to speak,

"He must have been wearing steel toed boots…" she trailed off, looking at the floor.

Sherlock said nothing, but kept his eyes on her side, his long fingers reaching out to cautiously trace the bruises. Lia sucked in a breath at the contact.

"Your hands are cold," she half-joked, covering her feminine response to being touched by the admittedly handsome detective.

The sound of John bumping into the chair outside Sherlock's room pulled them from their trance, and Sherlock had just gotten Lia safely in bed by the time John entered the room, a cup of tea in one hand, and a bottle of meds in the other.

"I have to admit, trying to brew tea with one well-functioning arm is more difficult than it sounds. Who knew getting stabbed would affect my tea making abilities?" John said with a small laugh. "Oh good, Lia, you're in bed. Why are you wearing Sherlock's pajamas?"

"The scrubs were uncomfortable." Sherlock answered for her.

"They really were," Lia added quietly, "Sherlock offered me his pajamas and helped me change."

"Sherlock helped…? Nevermind. As long as you're comfortable. Here." John handed her a cup of tea, "Drink this and take two of these pills. They'll help with the pain. They'll probably put you to sleep, but you need the rest anyways."

Lia took the mug with her good hand

"Thank you John." She said with a small smile, looking at the pills for an extended moment before sighing and swallowing the capsules with a sip of the sweetened hot tea.

John and Sherlock moved to excuse themselves to let Lia get the rest she desperately needed when John stopped short of the door.

"Oh! I completely forgot! Lia, I have something that might cheer you up!"

John took three long steps toward the thief in Sherlock's bed before digging in his pocket and pulling out a long chain.

"I picked this up off the floor of the warehouse before Lestrade and the Yard showed up. I figured it might raise some flags if it was discovered, and I know how much it means to you."

Lia's eyes lit up for the first time since they got to the hospital when she laid her eyes on the Izziles diamond hanging from the chain in John's hands.

"My diamond!" Lia couldn't hide the excitement in her voice despite her fatigue. "Thank you so much!"

She nearly ripped it out of John's hand and clutched it close to her chest.

John just laughed, "I'm glad it made you happy. Now go to sleep, dear. You do need your rest."

After Sherlock and John had closed the door, Lia nestled herself deeper into the soft blankets and pillows and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, her diamond still clutched in her hand.


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Lia spent the next 48 hours in and out of consciousness, being checked on regularly by John, who monitored her healing progress and medications, Sherlock, and even Mrs. Hudson, who had returned as soon as she heard the coast was clear. Even Molly came to visit, curious about the woman staying at 221B.

Soon Lia became strong enough to not require her heavy barrage of medication. One night, Sherlock was sitting in his chair sifting through old information in his mind palace when a strange noise brought him back to reality.

Listening carefully, Sherlock realized the sound was coming from behind the closed door of his bedroom where Lia lie sleeping. Hearing the girl cry out once more, Sherlock leapt to his feet and opened his door quickly to investigate. He scanned the room to see Lia squirming in bed, still asleep, wincing in pain at her movements, but clearly having a nightmare of some sort.

Sherlock took two long strides and knelt in front of the girl. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Lia, wake up. You're dreaming."

Sherlock shook her a little when she didn't wake up.

"Lia. Wake up."  
Suddenly, she sprang up in bed, her eyes snapping open, breathing heavily. She quickly cried out in pain as the sudden movement jarred her healing ribs. She was trembling uncontrollably and looked as if she was on the verge of tears.

"Lia, look at me" the deep baritone drawled.

Lia turned to see the detective at her bedside.

"You had a nightmare." He stated matter-of-factly.

Lia simply nodded as tears started dripping down her pale cheeks.

Though physical contact was generally unheard of with the consulting detective, Lia had somehow become a major exception, so it no longer surprised either party when Sherlock automatically pulled himself into bed, sat next to the girl and wrapped his arm around her comfortingly.

"It was about Moriarty." He spoke again, not questioning.

Lia didn't even nod, but instead let the tears flow more freely, resting her face in her hands.

"I killed him, Sherlock. I shot him dead without a single thought! I never, ever thought I could kill anyone! He's haunting me! Anytime I close my eyes he's there! I know I did the right thing but I just…I just can't…"

Sherlock simply shushed the now sobbing thief, rubbing soothing circles in her back while holding her tighter.

"You did do the right thing, Lia. You saved all our lives. You're the reason we're all alive right now. You came to me to take Moriarty down, you were clever enough to lead me to him when your plan went wrong, you were the one who took down Moran even though you had been tortured and drugged, and you're the one who acted honorably when the time came. Moriarty is not worth your tears, Lia. And we both know I don't say things to make people feel better."

Lia laughed a bit at the last part, looking up into the eyes of the socially awkward detective, who was doing a surprisingly good job at comforting her. Saying nothing, she simply leaned up and pressed a long, warm kiss to the cheek of the supposedly cold-hearted detective and returned her head to his shoulder.

After a moment of heavy silence, Sherlock was speaking again,

"You know, you could be doing so much more with your skill-set, Lia."

Confused, Lia looked up at Sherlock,

"What do you mean? Like, bigger jobs?"

"No, I mean, working on the right side of the law for a change."

Lia looked down and fiddled with the buttons of Sherlock's shirt,

"Sherlock, I've been a criminal since I was 15. I can't just go legit. It doesn't work like that. Besides, I'm helping people with what I do, albeit indirectly."

"But you could help so many more with the proper help!"

"I don't need any help!"

"Sure" Sherlock scoffed, alluding to her current condition by grabbing her hand, currently plastered in a thick cast.

Pulling her arm from the detective, Lia leaned back to counter,

"Ok, fine. But still. I'm wanted in several countries, Sherlock. Including this one. That kind of stuff doesn't just go away. I've pissed off some important people in my time."

"You're forgetting that the British government is family, Lia. We could help you."

Lia took a moment to consider the fact that _the_ Sherlock Holmes was offering to get Mycroft, whom he avoided like the plague, to help her. She sat in silence, truly considering what Sherlock was offering. A real life? Is that what she wanted?

Lia smirked when she finally spoke,

"I wouldn't have to work in an office, would I? A little cubicle with a water cooler and a chatty Cathy next door and a boss that smells like cabbage?"

"I'm sure something can be arranged. Where you are getting your office references from, I have no idea, but I can assure you that you would never work in an office. Offices are for ordinary people, Lia. Our fun is found in the thrill of the chase." Sherlock spoke with determination and a hint of humor.

Lia laughed heartily, but winced at the movement.

"Do your ribs still hurt?" Sherlock asked, concerned.

"A bit, yes, but not too bad. I'm a fast healer. Besides, I've had worse." Lia responded, followed by a wide yawn.

Catching his cue, Sherlock made to sit up and get out of the bed,

"Right. You're tired. I'll let you sleep."

Lia placed a hand on his chest before he had the chance to move.

"Wait" she said with imploring eyes. "Will you stay with me?"

Sherlock looked at her bewildered.

"At least until I fall asleep?" Lia added quickly.

"Well," Sherlock replied, settling easily back into the bed, "It _is_ my bed."

"Mmhmm," Lia replied sleepily, cuddling closer to the detective.

Sherlock genuinely smiled as the girl warming his side fell quickly asleep, her breathing smooth and even, all traces of worry erased from her beautiful face.

Brushing a stray strand of hair from her face with his spare hand, Sherlock leaned down and slowly laid an experimental kiss on the sleeping thief's forehead.

With one last look at the girl in his arms, Sherlock settled back and fell into a comfortable sleep, a lazy smile stuck on his face.


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Sherlock woke late the next morning to find his bed empty. Sitting up, he listened for the tell-tale signs of someone poking around the kitchen, but was met with silence. He moved on to listen for someone in the shower, but suddenly realized that the entire flat was completely quiet. Sherlock sat up and swung his feet to the floor. As he looked around the room, he noticed that all of Lia's things that they had picked up from the hotel were missing, as if she had never even been there. Sherlock's heart sank when he realized the thief had left without a trace. Ruffling his hair with his hand, he went to flop back onto his bed when he spied two enveloped, marked 'John' and 'Sherlock', along with a small black box, also marked 'Sherlock.'

He opened the letter to John first, which read as a heartfelt thank you for helping her medically, for returning her diamond, and for being an overall great man. She also included a request to "look after Sherlock", to which the detective merely rolled his eyes.

Finally turning to his own letter, Sherlock read each word carefully,

"Dear Sherlock,

Thank you for all you've done. I'd tell you you're brilliant, but you already know that. I'm truly considering your offer, but have decided I need to sort some things out first. Please be safe in your work, and look after John.

Until we meet again, Lia Brooks.

PS, In the box I have left you two gifts. The first is if I need you. The second is for you to figure out.

PPS, don't use the first gift on John's room of he'll take it away.

Sherlock smiled as he opened the box. Inside was a small keychain, which turned out to be a miniature black light. Sherlock smirked at the thought of using it in John's room again before deciding he really didn't want it taken away.

The second gift surprised the detective. Lifting it from the box and holding it up to the morning light peeking through his window, the Izziles diamond sparkled brilliantly on its chain in the detective's hand, like a silent promise.


	22. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Six months after Lia left, Sherlock and John's lives had gone back to normal, or as normal as their lives could be. A couple months back, however, John had met a schoolteacher though a case and started dating her after the case wrapped. In the two months they'd been dating, John and one Miss Mary Morstan had grown serious rather quickly, leaving Sherlock with less than adequate entertainment.

Having no case and not wanting to be alone at the flat while John was at Mary's for the night, Sherlock had gone out for a walk.

Quickly trying to deduce strangers on the street had grown boring quickly for the astute detective, so he simply walked aimlessly without looking at a single person. Ducking into a corner shop, Sherlock caved in his boredom and bought a pack of cigarettes.

'Well, John's not home to smell it on me anyways' Sherlock thought, justifying it to himself.

Exiting the store, Sherlock walked a few blocks before stopping on the side of the sidewalk to pull out a cigarette. He reached into his pocket for his lighter, but instead found a small blank piece of paper.

Holding it up to the light, Sherlock quickly delved into his breast pocket and drew out a small keychain that he hadn't used in months but kept on him at all times. Finding an alley, he quickly shined the light on the slip of paper and read a simple message,

"Did you miss me?

PS, I stole your lighter. Smoking is bad for your health. Race me home?"

Sherlock laughed out loud before running out to the street to hail a cab back to 221B.

END!

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read through this whole story. I know it's not very well written in some places, and my writing style needs a lot of work, but overall I'm rather happy with the story. Also, I hope my American-ism doesn't show through terribly, though at some points I didn't even bother trying to hide it. It's part of the reason I made Lia an American. **

**Also, I have some other drabbles involving Lia, Sherlock, John, and even Molly that mostly take place during the scenes in which Lia is healing at 221B. If anyone is interested I might type some up and just add a chapter to this with them attached. **

**Also, if anyone is interested in a sequel, I might be able to come up with somewhere for our characters to go J Review with your opinions, my lovely friends!**


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